His Shattered Image
by Thrice the Double U
Summary: Four years have passed since Prince Noctis was wed to the oracle alpha of Tenebrae, part of Niflheim's terms for armistice. He was a prisoner, in truth, but it was all for the sake of Lucis. Married life with her wouldn't have been so bad if it weren't for her constant absence, both in his life and their son's. He was an omega, though. What did he matter? ‹‹More warnings within.››


**Disclaimer:** I do not own the work of Square Enix's _Final Fantasy XV_.

 **Warning(s):** M/F relationships, implied Mpreg, implied verbal and physical abuse, alternate universe, and Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics.

 **Relationship(s):** Noctuna

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Omegas weren't allowed to wear their hair entirely short—not entirely. In the case of Lucis, they could sport a stylish top layer so long as they had a bottom layer of acceptable length, which was generally anywhere passed the shoulder blades. That was a lenient ruling in comparison to everywhere else, and some forbade the cutting of hair altogether. They were given more freedom of expression this way, and as a rather progressive nation, the social norms for omegas were always changing there. It didn't stop at the style of their hair. In fact, it _started_ with omegas of the royal family being able to assume the mantle of monarch, beginning a new era of omega empowerment.

As an omega himself, Prince Noctis had wholeheartedly taken advantage of the liberties he was granted by the progressive views of his country, and he was known for pushing the envelope even further. Being the crown prince, not many could oppose him when he wore his hair a little too short for society's liking or wore tight-fitting clothes that showcased his curves, but it didn't stop people from talking. Some questioned if he had any respect for himself, especially the Lucian media. They were fools, though, if they thought he was going to explain himself for being comfortable with his body. So long as he wasn't walking around public stark naked, what did it matter to them? In the eyes of his fellow omegas, Prince Noctis was a role model, a voice for those who still saw the oppression built into their society. That's why it was mournful day when he was betrothed to the alpha oracle of Tenebrae.

He could remember some of the sad and angry faces of the protestors, those who bashed the injustice of a mere teen being married off to an adult, and their signs that called it a violation of human rights. What made it worse was that it was _Niflheim_ that had proposed to have him wed, part of the "peace treaty" they wanted to conjure with Lucis, which many considered a farce from Day One. The Empire had no intention of creating peace with the marriage—they just wanted to take a piece of their better before surrendering. With Noctis in their hands, they had something over Lucis, bait to dangle over the country's head. _Everyone_ could see that.

"She's gone for Lucis, then?" Noctis asked Gentiana, who stood at his side by the window. They were looking out at the storybook scenery that was Tenebrae, letting the warmth of daylight wash over them. It was nothing like his homeland in the sense that Lucis lacked any floating islands and lush flora, as well as unique architecture dating back hundreds of years, but at least Lucis wasn't occupied by the Empire. The wretched imperial soldiers littered the fine streets and terrorized the wondrous blue sky with their eyesores they called "airships." Noctis would've much preferred the war balloons of Tenebrae over them; they were as beautiful as they were deadly when the country still had its magic. The airships, they were just deadly.

"Yes, Your Highness," said Gentiana. "The Lady left early in the morning with an escort. I'm afraid you were still sleeping at the time."

"Ah, I see." He scoffed to himself quietly, his mind berating that simple, accepting answer he'd grown accustomed to giving when it came to Lunafreya's whereabouts. He should never have asked anyway. Over the course of their marriage, she'd been called away from home more often than Noctis would've liked to admit, and even when she _was_ home—well—she may as well have not been. Now, don't misunderstand; Noctis knew perfectly well that Lunafreya had her own duties to attend to, and she couldn't just drop everything for her omega. However, was he wrong for wishing he could take top priority for once? If not him, what about their son? In the very least, she could've set aside some time for _him_ , right? "Gentiana, could you…give me some space for a little while? I want to be alone right now."

"Are you certain that's a good idea, Your Highness?" Sagely eyes fell softly on his form, which had gone rigid beneath her gaze, and then shifted toward the Niflheim guards assigned to the prince. " _They_ are still here, though Lord Ravus has gone with the diplomatic party alongside the Lady."

"I'll be fine. Thank you for your concern, but they don't have the nerve to act out without my brother-in-law to spur them on. Also, Caligo's lessons should be finishing up soon. With him here, they'll do nothing but whisper snide remarks in my ear as we pass by."

Gentiana nodded, but she still seemed reluctant. "Very well, Your Highness. I'll be taking my leave. However, don't hesitate to call me should you need me. I won't be far."

"Thank you." He didn't watch her leave, but over his shoulder, he said, "By the way, Gentiana, I'm not 'Your Highness' anymore; it's just Noctis."

She chuckled. "Of course…Noctis." Then, with the soft click of the bedchamber doors, he was alone with his guards.

True to his prediction, they didn't move to bother him. They simply observed him as he glided over to a full-length mirror and stared at himself with glassy eyes. Some called him conceited and vain for always looking at his reflections—no matter where they occurred—but he couldn't help but be aware of the changes happening to him. Both physically and mentally, Noctis Lucis Caelum wasn't the same man he was before he left Lucis and practically became a prisoner of the Empire under the pretense of a political marriage.

On the physical side of things, motherhood did wonders to his body, giving him a shapelier figure. He now sported thicker hips and a well-padded backside, and while he somewhat missed his muscle definition, he could appreciate his softer look. The stretch marks he acquired had faded nicely following Caligo's birth but still littered his abdomen like jagged stripes. They were one of the remaining sources of pride he had, as they reminded him of the trying but joyous months he spent preparing for the arrival of his and Luna's first pup. However, his body showcased other sorts of marks, as well—scars, to be exact. He had the Niflheim guards and Ravus to thank for them, and he was only too happy that the vestment they forced him in concealed every single one of them. He couldn't let Caligo see them, after all, and Luna…she was a different story altogether.

Running a hand through hair that now reached the middle of his back, prohibited from cutting it and wearing it as he liked, he glared at the shell of a once-proud omega. His cool blue eyes flared an ireful red the longer he looked, and he grimaced with disgust. _How far I've fallen_ , he thought. _The Nifs have stomped all over my dignity, beaten me down into submission, and I let it happen. Hard to tell I was a prince at all looking like_ _ **this**_ _. If I didn't know any better, I would've called myself a rich alpha's homemaker at best. Perhaps not getting to go home was a stroke of luck: no way could I've presented myself to my father the way I am now. I'm a disgrace!_

In an instant, the mirror shattered under the violent force of Noctis's fist, shards sent flying and slicing up the offending hand. He hissed in pain, but he could hardly bring himself to care. Pain had become a dominant presence in his life. "Mommy, your hand!"

He shot his gaze toward the doors, and there stood his four-year-old son. His eyes were wide, and he lunged out of his tutor's grasp to run for his mother's side. "Your hand is hurting, Mommy," he said, quickly taking ahold of the bleeding appendage.

"Young Master, please step away from there: There's glass!" his tutor said. She'd rushed over after him and tried to peel him away from Noctis, but Caligo was stronger than most anticipated.

"No! Mommy needs help, and I have to help him."

"Your mother will be fine, child. The guards will fetch a first aid kit and address his wounds. There's no need to get worked up and make things worse; so, please, let's get you away from all this glass." She looked at the men who stood watch. "Well? Get going!"

It was only a matter of minutes before the guards returned with Gentiana, who had the desired kit in her arms and a worried look on her face. She didn't need to ask what happened, the evidence speaking for itself, and she didn't hesitate to to begin working on Noctis's hand after pulling him away from the glass littered beneath his feet. Caligo still clung to him, but at least now he wasn't in danger of also being cut up. His tutor was dismissed once she was assured everything was under control.

"You must be more careful, Noctis," Gentiana said, removing the last of the shards and bandaging his hand. "You could've been seriously injured being so reckless." Noctis didn't say anything. His eyes were downcast, and his expression was strikingly blank, though she could tell he was hiding shame beneath his mask. "There, all done."

"Is Mommy going to be okay now, Miss Gentiana?" asked Caligo. She looked down at the little boy who was practically his father's spitting image: blue eyes, blond hair, peachy skin. He reminded her so much of her mistress when she was just a child, though the almond-shaped eyes were undoubtedly his mother's. She smiled.

"Yes, he should be—"

"I'll be fine, Caligo. Everything's all right," said Noctis, rather terse, though his gaze was soft. "I'm sorry I scared you." Whenever it came to his boy, he always came alive, shedding his expressionless mask to show real affection for his one pride and joy. Gentiana supposed it made sense, seeing as Caligo was practically the last remaining person he loved unconditionally. Not that he didn't also love his father or Luna—they were both still very important to him—but it was his son who was by his side now. The other two abandoned him, even if that wasn't their intention; they left him to fulfill their own obligations. Caligo was his last anchor to sanity. "And I'm sorry I caused _you_ more trouble, Gentiana. I was being foolish again."

"I understand," she said. "I'm only grateful that you hadn't done yourself more serious injury."

"Yeah…"

"Mommy, why did you hurt yourself?" Caligo ran his little fingers over his mother's hand, gingerly feeling the roughness of the cloth bandages and staring up at him with thoughtful eyes. "When those mean soldiers hurt you, or Uncle Ravus, or that one-winged man, you always tell me that it's wrong and they shouldn't be doing that to nobody. So, doesn't that mean _you_ shouldn't hurt yourself, either? Isn't _that_ wrong?"

Noctis saw tears in his eyes, and his heart ached for his son.

" _Don't be mean to yourself, Mommy."_

Time seemed to slow as he fell to Caligo's level on his knees, shakily taking him into his arms and holding him in a warm embrace. His own tears began to fall and wet his cheeks. "You're right, that was wrong of me, and I shouldn't have done that. I promise I won't make the same mistake again, okay? Can you forgive me?" Caligo hugged him back as an answer, and his mother pulled back to smile at him. "You're too kind, you know that, Cali?"

"Maybe~, but that's better than being a big meanie, right?" The little boy grinned and giggled while his mother ruffled his hair, the atmosphere significantly lighter than it had been in a long time, and Gentiana couldn't help but watch them with a warm heart. The relationship between mother and child was a beautiful thing: She'd always thought so. Even with its ups and downs, _their_ bond was usually the strongest between the family members, though the father was equally important. It was just an unfortunate twist of fate that Caligo didn't have that intimacy with Lunafreya. Being born during a tumultuous time, he, too, felt the absence of his oracle father and would ask Noctis frequently about her whereabouts. Gentiana could only imagine what frustration he felt every time he asked, but parenthood taught him patience if nothing else.

"Gentiana, Cali and I are going to take a walk through the palace garden for a little while. You want to join us?" asked Noctis. The beta woman had been lost in thought, and she didn't notice when her lord had stood with his son in his arms.

"Perhaps at a later time. I need to stay behind and see to it that the glass and mirror are taken care of," she said, smiling. "Thank you for the invitation, though."

"Where would we be without you?" He chuckled. "Very well, we'll see you 'at a later time,' then."

As he seemed to glide out of the bedchamber, his robes flowing behind him, Gentiana looked to the mess that had been made in the wake of his fit. The broken mirror, what was left of it, had cracked in a fascinating pattern resembling a spider's web, and she could see his retreating form. It was funny how the two were so similar. They were beautiful despite that they were damaged, and the both of them could be repaired with time. However, the fact remained that they were damaged, damaged by pain and heartache, and she had to wonder: How much more broken would he become before the repairs could be done?

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 **Author's Note:** I thank you all for reading! This is a small snippet of a grander scheme, and Lunafreya is actually the main protagonist of this alternate universe. I have the framework for this AU posted on my Tumblr, and I've messed around with it here to fit my preferences and what I had in mind for it; so, if you enjoyed this, excellent! Well-meaning reviews are always appreciated.


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